


what it is (ain't exactly clear)

by Missy



Category: Laverne & Shirley (TV)
Genre: 1960s, Gen, Protests, Vietnam War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28280796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: Lavern and Shirley find themselves on differing sides of the fence as the Vietnam War rages on.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shotzette](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shotzette/gifts).



Laverne knew the rules and regulations for attending marches by now. You don’t wear clothing that’s easy for the cops to grab at, and you wear shoes you can run in. Always have fifty cents on you if you need to call someone to bail you out of jail, and keep an eye on your ride out. 

She had a sign at her side and determination broiling in her guts. She was ready, so ready, to take part in tearing the walls down. She was going to make sure her frustration was properly vented, damn it.

It didn’t turn out that way, as peace became violence and she got between a cop and a woman and took a billy club to the back of the neck. Hauled to her feet, she was carried to the nearest paddywagon. The dime was still against her thigh when she sat down.

And she knew who she was going to call to wire the money to bail her out.

*** 

“All of these nasty hippies.” Shirley’s mother’s voice cut through the din and little Davy’s cries as she plopped his nuckie between his lips. She rubbed her lower back and remembered voting against the war repeatedly, though 

“Mother, please,” she begged. She may need her mother temporarily while she tried to adjust to motherhood herself, but Barb could at least be quiet. 

“Why are you defending them?” Barb wondered. “These are the same people who want to make sure Walter comes back to you in a pine box.”

“Mother!” she hissed. The baby rolled over against her lungs and squeezed the air out of one of them.

“They call soldiers babykillers now. Imagine that,” Barb said, as if they didn’t watch the news together every night, sparking Shirley’s already querulous stomach to rolling life.

Blessedly, they were interrupted. And when the telephone rang, Shirley knew just who would be on the other end.


	2. Chapter 2

The little brown DeSoto rolled up to the curb in the middle of the blazing California afternoon. Laverne fairly leapt into her best friend’s car, then clipped the seat belt into place and sat back with a heavy sigh. “Thanks, Shirl.” She took a glance at the back seat. “Did you leave Davy alone at home?”

“No, he’s with mother,” she said. “Laverne, what happened this time?”

“I was in Berkley. Remember that no-nukes march? Well, we met up with a bunch of people who’re marching for integration and some anti-war people. One thing led to another and I got a citation.”

“Laverne, how can you talk about what happened to you today with such nonchalance?” Shirley worried. “These people could be dangerous! And they could be drunk. Or wacked out on marijuana!”

“Shirl…” Laverne’s whine was shriller than normal. It was the same tone she used when they were fighting and Laverne was getting ready to uncork a right hand on her. “I know what I’m doing, okay? I’m a grown up woman.”

“I know you are,” Shirley said. “And yet I continue to worry about your moral fiber.”

“Don’t worry,” Laverne said. “I’m getting plenty of it.” Shirley came to a stop before Laurel Vista and Laverne hopped out, her signs in hand. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Get back safe.”

Shirley muttered that she would, yet she watched her best friend’s ascent the whole time. Ever since she’d moved back to California – even though she and Laverne now lived four hours apart – Laverne’s activities alarmed her. Shirley was a fierce unionist, a fierce liberal, and yet she had horrible mental image of her best friend dying alone on the street like those poor Kent State kids.

She sighed and turned the keys. Laverne was a brick wall – trying to convince her to listen to reason was like yelling into the Grand Canyon. The DeSoto growled to life, and she made the four hour drive back up to NorCal and her husband’s waiting arms.

*** 

Laverne’s slightly disheveled hippieish abode was quiet and warm, and that was satisfying enough that she didn’t think to check her mail or do anything but take a shower and then go downstairs to make herself a quick, hot meal.

She was, she thought to herself, doing an important service. With the boys in Vietnam, it was her job to get them out, and via the only means available to her – being as loud as she could, and use the shield of her respectability as a Councilman’s daughter to get attention on the cause. She vowed to herself that she wouldn’t stop. Not until she’d moved mountains.


End file.
